2020: How Do You Measure A Year?

I rang in the year with my closest West Coast friends. Dressed in my go-to black leather boots and a baggy band tee, I remember feeling like things were starting to settle into place for us here in LA. We ate, we drank, we danced, and at midnight we rang in what we thought would be an exciting new year. 2020 - mysterious, but full of wonder. In our house, we always liked things that way. 5, 4, 3, 2 1 - happy new year. A blank slate. 525,600 minutes to fill.

I remember the day that people started dying. We had plans to go to a show. Nothing crazy, just a local band - one of those "why not?" kind of weeknights where we were feeling spontaneous. When the show was canceled I remember thinking things would be sorted out in a few days. Weeks, maybe. It was all media hype, I thought. You know - the kind where they say you're going to get a big snow storm and you only get a few inches.

We're pretty social, but we also quite enjoy each other's company in simple nights at home. Very quickly, we became grateful for the latter. We had a balcony that allowed us to stand outside but we could barely fit chairs out there, let alone get in and out without some shuffling and "excuse me"'s. That balcony soon became our little sanctuary and our most consistent touch-base with the outdoors. We lined it with twinkle lights (we love a good aesthetic), and enjoyed near-nightly margaritas. We shared countless quiet nights with nothing but each other's company and I have to admit, we didn't mind.

A friend of mine back in Boston was making masks and selling them on Etsy. She asked how many I wanted. "Just one should be fine", I told her while simultaneously trying to convince myself. Oh boy.

Rewind...in January we welcomed our perfect puppy, Cash Collins. He has provided not only so much joy, but also so many lessons in patience, consistency, and routine. At the lowest points of the year, Cash provided me with a reason to get up bright and early and get outside. When LA shut down, the only time I left the house was because of Cash! A large puppy in a small apartment is a challenge in and of itself, but a large puppy with a LOT of energy, amidst a pandemic forced us to get creative. We played fetch in the hallway, ran laps around the block with masks on, and we made it work. He is our best friend and a true source of consistency in this year of unpredictability.

But once that storm started, it felt like the inches just kept piling on.

I will never forget the night we sat on that 18" balcony and watched the helicopters and smoke rising. Another black man had been murdered, and the city was on fire. I don't think I have ever lived through a time of such raw emotion. Even from those 18 inches three stories above ground, we could feel the pain. The anger. The desperation. We also felt it on our own accord, of course. I spent months battling the internal monologue that comes along with being biracial in a time of civil unrest. That's not something new this year, nor will it disappear with a new one, but 2020 brought it to the surface in a way that has been more challenging than times past. But amidst the destruction, smoke, and tears - we had one glimmer of hope to hold on to. It was an election year.

As the pandemic and the unrest continued with no real end in sight, I found myself uncomfortable with all of my spare time. Time that was once filled with lunches with friends and spontaneous outings was now empty and quiet. I don't do too well with too much quiet. I began teaching virtually for Kick It by Eliza - an opportunity that has been such a true blessing. I was able to reconnect with people I taught back in Boston, as well as new friends all over the world. My job with ALKU remained my rock as always. I am beyond grateful for that. I filled the rest of my spare time with a new part time gig that involved flying to Boston to teach. I was busy beyond belief, but I was moving. I was breathing deep for the first time in a while. And then I hit the ground.

I don't remember the moment of injury. I was going through the motions of a boxing class when all of a sudden I was on the floor, clutching my knee. I didn't have to look down to know what had happened. I could feel my right kneecap in my right hand. The issue was, my hand was on the side of my leg. I laid there on the ground, dislocated kneecap in hand, for twenty minutes while my sweet coworkers called an ambulance and maintained a level of calm that truly saved me from a complete and total shock-induced panic attack. I went straight from the ER to the airport in a wheelchair, and spent 6 hours in the air with a tear soaked mask. This couldn't be real.

But it was very real. And it got more real when we found out on the drive home from LAX that Ryan had to travel for work for the next two months. He was leaving in 3 days and I could not walk, let alone shower or get myself dressed. Oh, and remember that high energy puppy? Yeah, he was all mine for the next two months. I didn't know much in that moment, but I knew I needed help. There was no way I could take care of Cash myself without being on my feet. To be separated from my true source of strength for two months at this time felt impossible. But he was off to do great things, as he always is, and I was so proud.

Not many people can say they have someone in their life who would fly across the country just to turn around and push you in a wheel chair through the very same airport they came through mere hours before. My best friend Jessica did exactly that. There are so many people that I will never be able to repay for how they showed up for me in this moment of sheer helplessness. I flew home for six weeks. I told myself I would have surgery there in one of the best hospitals in the country, as if the healthcare system would move that quickly for me. But the time at home was truly so healing, and I was back on my feet, albeit very unsteady, in just a couple short weeks.

When we got back to LA 6 weeks later, the election chaos was in full swing. The emotional turbulence that came with it was expected but still not easy. For the first time, I was forced to sit in the reality that indecency, dishonesty, and hatred might actually win. How would I explain that to my children one day? Luckily, after a grueling week of uncertainty, they lost. America voted for good. For change, for progress, for hope. America voted for Joe Biden & Kamala Harris. For the first time, a woman in the White House. A woman who looks like me. This moment, in a year with so much loss, is something I wouldn't trade for the world. My friends and my younger sisters were so involved and invested, and I am so proud of them.

Slowing down has never been easy for me. The COVID-19 pandemic forced the entire country into a slowdown the likes of which most of us had never experienced. My injury piled itself right on top of that slowdown and things skidded to a near halt for a while there. It is December 30th, 2020. I can walk. I can do some exercise. I do not know when I will be fully healed, but I am finding ways to work through the uncertainty. The virus is still rampant, worse in LA than ever before. People are still dying and no amount of silver-lining can make that right. This year will always come back to the heroes. The doctors, nurses, and law enforcement officers who worked tirelessly to keep us safe. The firefighters who put out the flames ignited by deep-seeded racism. The politicians who stood up to say enough is enough. The grocery store workers who put on a smile each day while people fought over toilet paper. The scientists who developed a vaccine that promises better days to come. My husband who greeted me with a hug and a positive attitude every single day we were together. Heroes, all of them.

In daylights
In sunsets
In midnights
In cups of coffee...

Actually feels pretty accurate.

In sadness
In losses
In heroes
In new beginnings

525,600 minutes of lessons no other year has ever taught.